Fortune Cookies
by ShannonSto
Summary: GS. Weekly Improv fic. Grissom. Sara. A wedding gown. Some fortune cookies.


**A/N**: Yep, it's improv time again ;-).  Thanks to Anki for this week's lines.  As always, first and last lines are to be used as given.  The rest is up to me.

**Disclaimer**: As if.

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Bunching up her wedding dress, Sara climbed out the window.  As Grissom held the stopwatch, she crossed the tree-lined street and walked briskly down the block.  Her heavy dress and long train were definitely proving cumbersome. When she reached the appropriate house, she ducked under the yellow crime scene tape, entering the home through an unlocked back door.

Grissom stood in the street.  He periodically jotted down numbers in his notebook, detailing the amount of time used to reach various points.  After a few more seconds, Sara emerged from the back of the house and, still at a rapid clip, retraced her steps back to the starting point.  Casting Grissom a doleful pout, she hesitated at the tiny window.

"Go," Grissom urged with a wave of his arm.

Sara gathered her dress about her again and contorted herself into a shape that was capable of climbing back through the opening.  As she disappeared into the hotel, Grissom stopped the timer.

"Good work," Grissom praised.  He peered through the window where Sara stood impatiently.

"Tell me we got what we needed," she said.

"Well, we proved that Rebecca did indeed have time to commit the murder while everyone thought she was in the ladies' room."

"Why do I sense a 'but' coming on?"

"We forgot to use the right shoes."

Sara glanced down, lifting the flowing gown to view her sneakers.  "You're kidding, right?  These things aren't uncomfortable enough?  You have to wear heels, too?  Remind me to skip the big wedding."

"I called Warrick to bring the shoes."  
  


"I have to do this again?" she let out an irritated sigh.

"Sara?"  When she turned to look at him, Grissom's lips turned up into a smile.  "Even if I could fit through that window, I don't have the figure for the gown."

"Everyone's a comedian," Sara muttered.  He was already out of earshot, however, entering the hotel through a side door.  She sat in a lounge chair in the hallway and watched him approach.

"Why don't we have our dinner break while we wait for the shoes?"

"They have a Panda Express, here, right?"

"I believe so."

Standing, Sara once again had to organize her gown before she could take her next step.  She wondered how in the hell anyone tolerated these things.  _No wonder people are always in such a hurry to duck out of the reception and out of the dress.   Yeah_, she smiled to herself, **_that's_**_ the reason_.  Before she could put a stop to it, her mind wandered the dangerous road of wondering how Grissom would look in a tuxedo.  

Grissom resisted the urge to help her with the dress; he had no idea what to do anyway.   The crime reenactment was his brainchild. It had seemed like the perfect way to prove or disprove the bride's story, and Sara was of a very similar height and build.  The suspect's wedding gown was generic, so finding one to use for their experiment had been easy.  He hadn't been prepared, however, for just how good she'd look in the dress.  This was definitely not his best idea ever.

As they passed by the hotel's registration desk, the clamoring began.  It only became louder when they stepped onto the casino floor.  From every direction came applause and congratulatory shouts.  Though a woman in a wedding dress was not an uncommon sight in a Las Vegas Hotel/Casino, everyone still felt the need to offer good wishes.

Grissom was certain his face was bright red.  He and Sara moved as quickly as they could across the casino to the food court.  They found a table in the far corner, as secluded as was possible, and sat.  It was then that Grissom noticed for the first time that she was just as embarrassed as he was.  No, this definitely wasn't his best idea ever.  _Damn, she's a beautiful bride. Stop it, Gil!_

"How about I go get the food? That way you don't have to stand at the counter."

"Great, thanks."  As she rattled off her order, she fumbled for her pockets for money, only to realize that wedding gowns have no pockets.  

Grissom found her futile search inexplicably adorable.  "I got it," he smiled, and got up from the table.

When he returned to the table with the tray of Chinese cuisine, he discovered a very fidgety Sara Sidle.  "Problems?"

"Everyone's looking.  And this lacy thing is incredibly itchy."

"Of course they're looking.  It's human nature to look when you see an attractive member of the species."

"I don't like it when people stare," she said softly.  If his choice of words had any significance to her, she did not let it show.  "I feel like a specimen in a jar."

"They're happy for us.  It's an affirmation of hope, don't you think?  In a society with a fifty percent divorce rate, people are still congratulatory of new marriages."

"But we're not married."

Grissom shrugged. "They don't know that."  They dined for a few minutes, nearly finishing their meals before Warrick paged Grissom.  Grissom informed his colleague of their location in the building. "Ah, the shoes are here."

"Goody." She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and pinched another bit of broccoli in her chopsticks.

"He's meeting us back by the conference rooms."

"I'm eating my fortune cookie first," she responded, breaking it open.

"What's your fortune?"

"'Someone loves you from afar.'  What a load of crapola.  What's yours?"

"They're obviously mass-produced.  'The feelings of another run deeper than you think.'"

Ten minutes later, Sara was once again climbing through the tiny bathroom window to the street.  This time was more difficult, however, as she was very unaccustomed to walking in heels.  She winced when her left heel sank into a cavity in the sidewalk and caused her ankle to turn.  As she turned her foot to free herself, her dress snagged on the limb of a young tree, tearing a small swatch of the fabric.  Looking more closely at the branch, she saw another piece of white fabric next to hers.  _Score!_

"Grissom, bring me a bindle!" she yelled to her supervisor.

"What do you have?" He jogged up to her and reached for his supplies.

Sara pointed triumphantly at the evidence on the branch.  "I love trees."


End file.
